A Writer, a Sheriff and a Brigand walk into a bar
by DeadPigeon
Summary: A surrealistic gathering.   Wait till you see where this goes!
1. The Writer

**A Writer, a Sheriff and a Brigand walk into a bar…**

_**The Writer**_

Richard Castle stood alone on a weed cracked asphalt parking lot and looked up at a  
>partially lit neon sign that flickered on and off in the dark. The decrepit sign leaned a<br>little too much towards a swatch of roadway acting like a giant bug light, its sole  
>purpose to lure passing motorists into the windowless brick building that stood before<br>him. He did a quick three sixty to take in his surroundings, darkness prevailed. The  
>only things to be seen were the building, the sign and the swatch of roadway.<p>

Had he been lured here? He couldn't remember. His car was nowhere to be seen. How  
>did he get here? Where was he? These questions swirled in his mind, he wanted to think<br>on it a moment but a sudden gust of wind blasted his eyes with grit and gravel and forced  
>him to seek refuge inside the building before him. The silence that followed as he slammed<br>the metal door shut on the howling gust of wind was profound.

He looked around the dimly lit interior and took in the bar's décor. It had a tired late  
>seventies early eighties look about it. Silver metal chairs with blue vinyl cushioned seats<br>sat around an assortment of chipped, simulated wood grain Formica topped tables. Red  
>pear shaped glass candle holders flickered in the center of each table, trying to imbibe a<br>sense of ambience to the sad place. It smelled of the stale spilt beer that marked the  
>carpeting, and of the years of cigarette smoke that stained the once white ceiling tiles to a<br>jaundiced yellow with surreal streaks of umber throughout.

He gave himself a shudder. He wanted to leave, but where would he go? He was lost.  
>At least here, he could get his bearings.<p>

A long wooden bar against the far wall of the room drew him forward. As old as the place  
>seemed to be, the bar was well stocked. Multitudes of bottles gleamed and glistened as they<br>perched on glass shelving tiered across a giant mirror behind the bar. The mirror reflected  
>back the bottles and the room, and gave the area around the bar a respectability that the<br>rest of the room lacked.

He found himself a seat on the only barstool with its blue vinyl cover intact. Nope, as he sat  
>his hand found a split in the side and he could feel the cotton batting poking out. He swiveled<br>around in the stool to face the bar, and waited.

Ten minutes later, he was beginning to wonder if anyone was there, when he heard a noise in the back.

"Hello?" He called out. "Anybody there?"

He could hear footsteps becoming louder as they approached the front and he saw a head appear.  
>It seemed to hover just above the waist high slatted swinging double doors that separated the<br>bar from the back. The man looked at him for a moment before pushing through the doors, and  
>he waited till the doors stopped flopping back and forth before he spoke.<p>

"Glad to see you could make it."

Rick eyed the short stocky, slightly balding man suspiciously. He was dressed in jeans, a well worn  
>black leather vest over a white dress shirt with its sleeves rolled up. The man's barrel chest strained<br>against the buttons of both the shirt and vest. His ensemble was completed by a grease stained  
>apron tied around his waist and a bar towel tucked in at the edge.<p>

"You were expecting me?" He asked. Even as he asked this question, part of him did not want to know  
>the answer.<p>

"Sure, you and two others tonight."

'Two others?" He asked.

"Yeah, they'll be here soon enough. What can I get you to drink?"

As odd as things were, he felt a drink couldn't hurt till he could find out more, so he ordered.

"I'll have a Scotch and….," his voice trailed off as he reached for his wallet and found nothing. He frantically  
>dug around in all his pockets. Nothing, no cell phone, no keys and no wallet, not even a piece of lint…nothing.<p>

"Sorry, I don't have any money on me." He told the barkeep.

"That's ok," the man replied. "Anything you want tonight is on the house."

"Ok…I'll have a Scotch and soda."

"Comin' right up." The man turned and grabbed a bottle off the shelf, poured up his drink and set it down  
>in front of him atop a cheap paper napkin.<p>

"Thanks,"

"That's what I'm here for," he replied.

"And why am I here?" Rick asked the man.

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough," he answered enigmatically as he headed back through the swinging double  
>doors.<p> 


	2. The Sheriff

_**Preface: The Sheriff in this story is based on Nathan Fillion's character in the movie "Slither". I recommend you see this movie if you haven't already. No, it's not a great horror flick (it was meant to be a comedy/horror), but the best part comes after the movie when you watch the special features. The gag reel, the driector and Nathan doing commentary on the whole movie and the feature about just his character are so funny!. I havent laughed so hard in a long time. Check it out. (BTW- The movie is also a vehicle for the "F" bomb...it must set a record.)**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>The Sheriff<strong>_

He awoke face down on the asphalt parking lot. Pushing himself up to his knees, he  
>brushed away flecks of grit that were stuck to his cheek and looked around. All he<br>could see was a homely looking bar illuminated by a busted neon sign that flashed  
>on and off. There was nothing but blackness everywhere else. He stood and dusted<br>off the front of his clothes and wondered how he'd wound up in this god forsaken  
>shit hole in the middle of nowhere. He didn't get to think too long on it before a harsh<br>ind began to blow driving sand back onto his freshly dusted clothing. Putting up his  
>hand up to shield his eyes, he looked for the entrance to the building. The door had<br>been in front of him moments before, but now with the wind and sand and the damn  
>light that wouldn't stay lit, he couldn't see a thing. He knew the building was before<br>him so he put out a hand and slowly walked forward till he touched the cinder block  
>wall. He slid his hand along the wall till he felt a smooth metallic surface under his<br>fingers and he fumbled around till he found the doorknob. He pulled open the door  
>only to have it ripped from his hand by a fierce gust that sent it slamming into the wall.<p>

"Son of a …!"

The last word was stifled as he spit out sand that had blown into his mouth. He mentally  
>finished cursing as he grabbed the doorknob and fought to pull it closed. A couple of<br>strong tugs later and it closed with a reverberating clang that echoed around the nearly  
>empty bar. He took off the ball cap he was wearing and tossed it down on a nearby table<br>and proceeded to run his fingers through his hair. He could feel a layer of grit embedded in  
>his scalp. He then swatted light puffs of dirt from his clothing until a ring of sand formed<br>on the floor around his body. He put his cap back on and without taking the time to look  
>around, proceeded to head towards the bar. Stopping halfway down the aisle he reached<br>around and pulled annoyingly at the seat of his pants.

"Shit," he muttered as he shook his right leg. "I've got sand stuck in the crack of my ass."

His comment was met with a snicker from the bar. He looked up in the direction of the  
>offending sound and saw a lone figure sitting at the bar with a drink in his hand. The man<br>raised his glass and saluted him.

"Good luck with that." The mysterious man spoke to him.

"And just who might you be?" He asked.

"Nobody, really. Just a lost soul it seems, sitting here waiting for you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He glared at the man.

"Your guess is as good as mine, come on…join me," he patted the rickety stool next to him.

He strode forward, and as he drew closer, their resemblance became apparent. Their eyes  
>went wide and their mouths hung open and they stood there in shock at what they were<br>seeing. The man at the bar reached out his hand and poked him in the chest. He kept on  
>poking him until he'd had enough, and he reached up and grabbed the man's fingers.<p>

"You keep it up and I'm gonna have to break 'em."

"Sorry, I was just making sure you were real? Who the hell are you?" He asked

He thought his outfit would have given it away. He was dressed in his sheriff's uniform, a  
>tan, brown and green ensemble with patches sewn on his shoulder and hat that read Wheelsy<br>Police Department and a shiny badge on his chest that said Sheriff. He didn't seem too smart  
>for a city slicker.<p>

"I'm the Sheriff."

"I can see that," the man said. "What's your name?"

"I'm Bill Pardy, Sheriff Bill Pardy."

"So where am I?' The man asked.

"How the hell should I know?"

"Well, you're the Sheriff here, aren't you?"

"Nope."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Don't know, woke up outside in the parking lot then came in here. Just who the hell are you to  
>be askin' all these questions?"<p>

"My name's Richard Castle," he put his hand out for a shake. "But you can call me Rick."

They shook hands and stared at each other some more. Bill was the first to speak.

"Is this a reality show or somethin', you a long lost twin brother that I didn't know about? Where's  
>the camera's…they in the back?" He asked looking over at the swinging doors behind the bar.<p>

"I wish this was. It would explain a lot. As far as I know it's just me, you and the bartender. I  
>haven't seen anyone else."<p>

"How long you been here?"

"Not too long, I showed up just the same as you. I don't know how I got here. My wallet, keys  
>and phone are all missing."<p>

Bill made a quick search of his own pockets.

"Damn, mine are gone too."

"You're also missing your gun." Rick noted.

Bill reached down to find his holster empty and then eyed Rick suspiciously. Rick threw up his hands  
>defensively.<p>

"I didn't take it. You didn't have it on you when you came in."

"Why are you so focused on my gun?" He asked, taking a step backwards.

"Hey, don't worry…it's just my job to notice things. I'm a writer and a part time consultant with the NYPD."

"Yeah, I'm just supposed to take your word on that?"

"Believe what you want Sheriff, we're both in the same boat here?"

'You check this place out yet? Bill asked.

"Not yet, I was going to after I finished my drink…," he swallowed down the last bit and smacked his lips,  
>"…and then you showed up. So, what do you say we do that now?"<p>

"Fine by me. Let's find that bartender; I want to ask him some questions."

"Good luck with that, the guys a little strange…he doesn't say much and what he does say doesn't make  
>much sense."<p>

"I'm sure I can get him to talk." Bill said smugly.

Rick was surprised when he found himself rolling his eyes at the Sheriff's comment, when had he picked  
>that up? He gave himself a little chuckle.<p>

"Somethin' funny?" Bill asked.

"No, nothing, the bartender's in the back," he pointed towards the swinging doors. "Lead the way Sheriff."

He squared the cap on his head before heading off through the doors. They found themselves in a small  
>kitchen. To the far left was a metal door marked with a faded plastic "Exit" sign. The tape holding it in place<br>looked brittle with age. The grill was situated to the left along the wall that separated the bar from the  
>kitchen. A serving window was cut into the wall between the two rooms and a view of the entire bar<br>could be seen as you stood at grill. The overhead grill vent looked like a fire hazard waiting to happen.  
>The inaugural speck of grease from when the place first opened was probably buried somewhere<br>underneath all the layers of grime that coated its surface.

Rick left Bill at the grill looking out the window and turned his attention to a partially opened door off to  
>the right. It was dark inside and as he slowly pushed the door open and he felt around on the wall for a<br>light switch. After a moment of fumbling, he found it and switched it on. The bare overhead bulb threw  
>a garish light over the room; it was as dated as the bar. A large laminate faux wood desk occupied the<br>center of the room and a seventies harvest gold vinyl swivel chair sat behind the desk. Years of use had  
>multiple splits running through the seat and layers of clear packing tape were being used to hold the cushion<br>together. A couch off to the right that was pushed up against the room's dingy white wall was in no better  
>shape than the chair. Its threadbare fabric was a garish sixties country motif and the cushions sat at odd<br>angles due to its obviously busted springs. The rooms tan shag carpet boasted two well worn and  
>matted pathways that led from the door to the chair and the door to the couch.<p>

He made a move to poke through the papers on the desk when he heard Bill's voice urgently calling to him.

"Hey buddy! Get in here, you gotta see this!"

He looked to the back wall of the kitchen where the door to a walk in freezer stood open and chilled vapor  
>poured out..<p>

"In here!" He heard Bill's voice call again.

Reluctantly, he walked towards the door. What he saw inside shocked him.

"Check this guy out! He's frozen stiff." Bill said as he thumped the man's balding head with his knuckles.

Standing upright in the middle of the freezer, and frozen solid, was the bartender.

"That can't be!" Rick exclaimed at the bizarre turn of events. "That's the bartender."

"This guy? You sure? You better come inside and get a better look at him to make sure."

"No way am I coming in there." Rick's stomach was in knots. "I almost died in a freezer not long ago."

"Fine, I'll turn him around then."

Bill grabbed the frozen body in a bear hug and spun it around. He waited to make sure it stayed upright before  
>he let go.<p>

"There," he said, standing to the side so Rick could get a better view. "That him?"

He leaned in and placed his hand on the door jamb for a better look and quickly flinched away from the cold  
>surface. Even after all this time he found the cold unbearably painful. He looked again with his hands in his<br>pockets and nodded.

"Yes, that's him."

He was still shocked that the blue hued crystalline statue that stood before him was the same bartender he  
>has spoken to no more than ten or fifteen minutes ago.<p>

"This guy cannot be frozen. He just served me my drink not ten minutes ago. I just finished drinking it when  
>you showed up. Hang on." He disappeared into the bar and returned with his drink as Bill was exiting the freezer.<p>

"Look, the ice has barely even had time to melt, so how could this guy freeze to death in that short amount  
>of time?"<p>

"Maybe he was flash frozen…they do make flash freezers." Bill replied

"Come on…everything in this place is at least forty years old, including that freezer. He wasn't flash frozen."

"Then how do you explain it?"

"Well…there are two of us. Maybe there's two of him."

"Maybe." He replied. " Or, maybe I need a drink."

Bill brushed past him and shoved his way through the swinging doors. Rick stopped their never-ending swinging  
>and followed him out. He watched the Sheriff flip open several coolers behind the bar before he found a bottle<br>of beer. He twisted off the cap and chugged half of it down before he placed it on the bar in front of him and  
>rubbed his face with his hands.<p>

"Just what I don't need, more fuckin' weird shit," he mumbled more to himself than to Rick.

Rick had heard and decided he needed another drink before he questioned the meaning behind that remark.  
>He fixed himself a double this time and went to sit next to Bill, who had taken a seat back around at the front<br>of the bar. They drank in silence for a few minutes till Rick felt the need to question the earlier comment.

"What did you mean when you said, more weird shit? Have you seen this before?"

"No, not this, this is normal compared to what I've seen."

"This is normal? How can you call this norm…."

Movement behind the swinging doors caught his attention. His eyes went wide and he almost fell off his barstool  
>in his hurry to back away from the bar. Bill was taking another swig from his bottle and watched Rick's antics,<br>he was thinking the man had lost his mind, till he saw the expression on his face and followed his gaze.

He spit out the beer he had been drinking across the bar before he could choke on it.

"Holy shit! What the fuck!" He stumbled back away from the bar until he bumped into Rick who held onto the  
>back of the Sheriff's coat trying to keep the man between him and the not dead bartender.<p>

"Glad to see you could make it" the bartender called cheerfully over to Bill.

Not wanting to play the human shield, he turned just enough to grab Rick by the shoulders and pried him loose  
>from his jacket. He then pulled the man around to stand beside him; he'd be damned if we was facing this alone.<p>

The bartender moved away from the door and over to where the two had been sitting moments before. He  
>pulled out the bar towel from his waistband and proceeded to wipe up the beer Bill had sprayed across the bar.<p>

"Can I get you another beer?" he asked.

The two stood transfixed. Neither wanted to be the first to move or speak. Maybe he would just go away.  
>But he didn't.<p>

"You two ok? You both look like you'd seen a ghost."

Bill snorted, and Rick spoke up.

"Maybe it's because we have."

Rick's comment gave Bill the courage to join in.

"Yeah, we just found you frozen solid in the freezer back there."

"How could you, just find me back there, when I'm standing right here." He asked with all seriousness.

His answer flustered Bill.

"I didn't mean right now, right now, I meant a couple of minutes ago."

"Well, I was in the freezer a couple of minutes ago stocking the shelves. I was a little cold, but I wasn't  
>frozen, as you can tell." The bartender held up his arms as if that was proof enough.<p>

"No, buddy, you were dead…all blue and frozen, we both saw you…hell, I even touched you." The memory  
>of it made him wipe his hands on the front of his jacket.<p>

"Don't know what to tell you, I'm as alive as the both of you. You're more than welcome to look in the  
>freezer if you don't believe me." He jabbed his thumb towards the kitchen.<p>

Bill gathered his courage and headed towards the kitchen. He felt Rick's hands grab the back of his coat again.

"Would you not..." He started to ask as he turned to swat his hands away.

"Sorry," he said letting go. I'm just a little creeped out."

"And you think I'm not!"

They cautiously passed through the opening in the bar and then through the swinging doors. Rick plowed  
>into Bill's back as he came to a sudden halt just inside the kitchen.<p>

"What did you stop for?"

"You need to stay and keep an eye on him."

"I'm not staying alone with creepy dead guy!"

"Do you want creepy dead guy sneaking up on us?"

"No."

"Then one of us has to stay."

"Why me, why not you?"

"You're gonna go into the freezer?"

"Oh yeah, you're right. Hurry up then."

Rick kept an eye on the bartender and listened as Bill's footsteps hurried to the freezer. He heard the handle  
>click and then the door squeak as it was pulled open and he felt the cool air as it escaped across the floor<br>and crawled up his pant leg. He shivered involuntarily.

"Fuck!"

This was all he heard out of Bill before he heard the door being shut and his footsteps approaching.

"What did you find?" He asked, never taking his eyes from the bartender who was busy still wiping the beer  
>from the bar.<p>

"Nothing."

"Nothing, as in no frozen dead guy?"

"No, no frozen dead guy."

Bill pushed Rick out the swinging doors and back into the bar. They both kept a wary eye on the bartender  
>as thay sat down next to each other at the closest table rather than at the bar. They both watched the man<br>while he worked. He finished cleaning up the beer and stared back at them for a moment before speaking.

"I'll be in the back cooking you up some burgers. I think you should all eat before you get started. If you  
>want anything else to drink just help yourself. 'Cause like I said earlier. Tonight, it's on the house." He gave<br>them another one of his cheerful smiles before he disappeared into the back.

"That guy is seriously creepy." Rick reiterated.

"I'm beginning to see what you mean when you said I wouldn't get much out of the bartender."

Thankfully, they could see the man through the window while he worked, and they could hear the patties  
>sizzle when he slapped them on to the grill, there didn't seem to be a chance of finding him frozen again.<br>Putting their heads together, they could come up with no logical reason as to why they were at this bar.  
>Bill came up with a simple solution to their problem.<p>

"Let's leave," he said.

"Leave?"

"Yeah, let's leave, together. There's gotta be someplace else nearby. Who ever heard of a bar in the middle  
>of nowhere? Bar's are only near people and where there are people…"<p>

"…there's a town." Rick finished.

Confident in their decision they stood up and headed to the door, only to find it locked.

"What the hell," Bill cursed as he tugged on the handle. "I was the last one in and I didn't lock it."

"I'm beginning to get a bad feeling about this place." Rick spoke nervously.

"Yeah, me too."

They turned to head back, only to stop short as they saw the bartender standing the table where they had  
>been sitting. He called out to them.<p>

"You can't leave."

"Why not?" Bill asked.

"Because you haven't eaten yet."

They both rolled their eyes as he held up a plastic mesh paper lined basket that held a burger and a generous  
>helping of fries. They cautiously approached him and the table and they both noticed three burger baskets<br>were waiting for them.

"Are you joining us?" Rick asked.

"No, I don't eat. Food is for patrons only."

"So who is the third burger for?" Bill asked.

Rick suddenly remembered what the bartender had told him earlier. He would be joined by two more. He  
>turned towards the entrance just seconds before the bartender pointed towards the door.<p>

"Him"

* * *

><p><strong><em>Authors note: I think I am drawing my inspiration for this story from the "Phanthasm" movies. That show is so disturding and leaves you with more questions than it does answers. Though this story will have an enexpected twist at the end, don't expect everything to be neatly wrapped up, so just go with the flow and get out of it what you will.<em>**

**_Oh, and did I forget fo mention..."I'm Bill Pardy."_**


	3. The Brigand

_**The Brigand**_

He must have fallen. When or how he couldn't remember, but he was seriously getting  
>tired of his left cheek taking the brunt of his falls.<p>

"_Gou niang yang de__!"_He cursed as he stood and took in his surroundings. Not much to  
>see but a blinking sign and a crap building. Everything else was dark.<p>

The sad state of the building before him meant he wasn't on a core planet, so it wasn't  
>the Alliance that had brought him here. This left him wondering who he might have pissed<br>off this time. There was always a chance Niska had come gunning for him again, but that  
><em>piyan<em> never left that floating torture chamber of his. He liked to carry out his revenge in  
>the privacy of his own home. No, this was more like Patience's doin'. She'd tried to kill<br>him twice. He never understood how that woman ever managed to run herself a planet  
>when she didn't understand the first thing about business. You do the job; you get paid.<br>He'd told her that the last time they met and he'd let her live. You think she'd a learned  
>something from that.<p>

"Best just go in and get this over with," he said aloud.

He opened the door. Stepping inside he was surprised to find three people staring at him  
>from across the room. One of the men, dressed in what looked like the uniform of a<br>private security firm, yelled something at him about the door and came charging at him.  
>Without knowing what was going on he did the only thing he could do. He punched the<br>man square on the jaw. The sound of the thud that his body made as it hit the floor was  
>masked by the sound of the door as it clanged shut behind him. The man on the floor rolled<br>over and sat up rubbing his jaw.

"What the hell did you do that for? He asked as he made a move to stand.

"I don't know who you are, or what's going on here, but you need to stay down or my foot'll  
>do worse than my fist did.<p>

The man plopped his ass back down on the floor and angrily stared up at him. It was then that  
>he noticed the man's resemblance. The situation suddenly stank of Alliance. He backed up<br>against the door and reached for his gun.

"Missing something buddy?" The man on the floor smirked when his hand found his holster empty.

"Ching-wah tsao duh liou mahng! He insulted the man as he squared off on him in fighting stance.

The man threw up his hands defensively.

"Whoa, I don't know what you said, but I ain't lookin' for a fight."

"That's right," the second man said as he approached the pair. "He wasn't looking to fight you;  
>he was just trying to keep the door from shutting behind you."<p>

He found himself looking at a slightly older and dandified version of himself.

"You mind explaining why I'm lookin' at two versions of myself? Dammed Alliance can't kill me so  
>they clone me, is that it?"<p>

"Settle down, we don't know what's going on here any more than you do."

"Let's me just say, I don't believe you, and leave it at that." He placed his hand on the doorknob and  
>tried to leave. He found it locked. He jiggled it a few more times for good measure.<p>

"Gorrammit." He murmured under his breath.

"That's why he was running for the door, now you're trapped inside with us."

"Trapped? So what happens now?"

"Now," he said, as he reached down to help the man up off the floor. "I suggest you join us for a beer  
>and some food."<p>

"Beer? You've got real beer?"

"Yeah."

"Then why didn't you say that in the first place." He brushed passed the two men and headed for the bar,  
>giving the bartender a wide berth as he passed him by.<p>

When he saw that no one was joining him at the bar, he looked back to see the two men sitting down at  
>the table behind him.<p>

"Care to join us." The older man asked.

He sauntered over and sat down at the end of the table with his back nearest the wall so he could keep  
>an eye on the bar, the door and the two men sitting next to him.<p>

"Barkeep," the man then called out, "bring us some beer."

"Yes sir, coming right up."

"So, I'm Rick," the older version of himself said as he held out his hand. It felt strange shaking hands  
>with himself.<p>

"This here is Bill," he nodded to the other slightly younger version sitting next to him. Bill gave him a  
>quick wave of his hand.<p>

"So, other than being another version of us, who are you?

"Name's Malcolm Reynolds, most people call me Mal."

"Well Mal, have a burger," Rick said shoving a basket towards him. "…and I'll fill you in on what we know,  
>or rather, what we don't know."<p>

"What's a burger?" He asked looking questioningly at the food shoved before him.

He noticed that Rick and Bill were looking at him like he had suddenly sprouted two heads.

"What? Why ya'll lookin' at me like that?"

"You mean to tell me you've never had a burger?" Bill asked.

"No, I've never had a _burger_."

"Wow, where'd they find this one?" Bill wondered aloud.

"This," Rick said holding his up, "…is a burger. You've got your buns on the outside that hold together all  
>the good stuff on the inside." He took off his top bun and held it up. "This one, for example, has mayonnaise,<br>that's the white stuff you see on the bun, he tossed the bun down into his basket, and then you have your  
>condiments, lettuce, pickles, tomatoes and onions followed by the piece de resistance, the grilled beef patty."<p>

"You talkin' real beef? Not beef flavored protein patties?" Mal's eyes suddenly got wider.

"Yes, real beef, what…" Rick never got to finish asking his question as he watched Mal grab his burger and  
>take a huge bite. He saw the man's eyes roll up into the back of his head.<p>

"Sheh-sheh." He mumbled between bites.

They both sat amazed as they watched the man chow down his food like it was his last meal. He was almost  
>finished when the bartender returned with their beers. Mal grabbed his from the bartender's hand before he<br>could set it on the table and took a long hard swig.

When he finally set the bottle down on the table, he realized that the two men were staring at him.

"I know what's goin' on here," he smiled at the pair.

"Enlighten us," Rick said.

"I've died and gone to heaven, that's what."

"This is your version of heaven?" Rick asked.

"You've got that right; real food and real beer in a swanky bar, it don't get much better than this."

"You think this place is swanky?" Rick shook his head in wonder at the man's comments.

"Any place that can afford matching furniture and wall to wall carpeting is high end in my book."

"What hole have you been living under?" Bill asked.

"Aint been livin' under no hole," he replied stuffing down the last bite of his burger, followed by his last swig  
>of beer. "I live on a Firefly class transport ship. I run cargo between the Border and Rim planets mostly.<br>Don't care much for the core worlds." He looked over to the bartender who was standing back behind the  
>bar and motioned for another beer, before he continued the conversation.<p>

"I don't…," he stopped speaking because the pair was now looking at him like he'd sprouted six heads instead  
>of two.<p>

"What's wrong?"

"Are you seriously trying to tell us you work on a spaceship?" Rick asked.

"I don't just work on the ship, I own it; I'm the captain." Mal said proudly.

His ego was quickly deflated when the two burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" He asked with a confused smile on his face.

Rick slapped his hand onto Bill's left shoulder as their laughter died down.

""You know what Bill; your reality show theory may not be that far off the mark. I think I'm being Punk'd. Yo!  
>Esposito…Ryan…you guys can come out now, joke's over!" He called out to the room. They all waited but no<br>one appeared.

"I hate to bust your bubble…,"Bill noted, "…but why would your friends be punking me? I ain't got no friends left  
>to punk' me cause they were all turned into slug zombies or were eaten alive when some fuckin' alien showed<br>up in my town."

Rick removed his hand from Bill's shoulder and scooted his chair back from the man. Mal took the opportunity  
>to return the laughter.<p>

"I think your friend there is a might bit crazy. Everyone cross the verse and back knows there no such thing as  
>aliens." Mal retorted.<p>

"Aliens are real! It's you and your stupid spaceship that's crazy!" Bill spat out defensively.

Rick got up from his chair and distanced himself from the table the same time that the bartender returned with  
>Mal's beer. The man set it down in front of him and then returned back to his post behind the bar.<p>

Mal took a pull on his new beer and looked over at Rick who was standing away from them deep in thought.

"Hey!" He called over to get his attention. "Are we both too fa kuang that you can't sit with us anymore?" He asked.

"Yes." He muttered absentmindedly, and then he realized what he'd said. "What? No. What did you say? I mean…I don't know?"

"Thanks a lot!" Bill complained.

He looked worriedly at the two men he had just pissed off and knew he had to do something to calm them down.

"Look, all I'm trying to say is that I don't know what's going on, none of us do." He walked back to the table.  
>They both noticed when he sat down in a different chair. He was now sitting opposite Mal and to the right of Bill.<br>Rick hoped that if he continued talking long enough, they'd forget he'd changed seats.

"We need to review the situation and separate the known from the unknown so that we can begin to understand  
>what is happening here. I propose that we work it like a murder board, work out a timeline, interview the victims,<br>namely us, and then list the suspects who could be behind this. What do you guys think?"

Bill shook his head in agreement and Mal spoke up.

"Sounds all well and good to me, I just need to know one thing before we start?"

"What is that?" Rick asked.

"Are you guys gonna' eat your burgers, cause if not, I want 'em."

Bill looked at Rick who shook his head no, so he slid both their baskets down to Mal and they watched as he  
>eagerly devoured his second one. Rick called for the bartender to bring some more beers as he saw that the<br>man was close to finishing his second bottle. He waited till the beers had arrived before he started with his questions.

"Ok, first thing…Bill, how did you get here?"

"Don't know, I just woke up in the parking lot."

"What's the last thing you remember before that?"

"The last thing I remember is killing that creature and heading off down the road with Starla and Kylie."

"And you Mal?"

He hurriedly swallowed down his next bite so he could speak.

"Found myself face down on the ground, got up, came in here. The last thing I remember is leaving the shipyard  
>after they patched up all the damage." He also remembered the loss of Wash but he didn't bring up that hurt.<p>

"I found myself standing outside this building, and the last thing I remember is falling asleep on an airplane."  
>Rick told of his experience.<p>

"Well that's something we can all agree on," he commented. "We don't know how we got here. So we move  
>on to the next big question. Why do we look alike? We're obviously not triplets due to our age differences and<br>I think cloning is out due to reasons that will explain themselves in a minute. I believe there can be only one  
>explanation for what is going on, and I can't believe Beckett's not going to get to hear me postulate this theory<br>...we gentlemen, are from different realities."

Bill snorted at the idea and Mal was so engrossed in pulling the meat off the third burger, that he wasn't sure  
>the man had heard him.<p>

"Mal, you hear that?"

"Oh, I heard alright, I'm just waitin' to hear the rest for I make up my mind one way or t'other." He dangled the  
>patty above his face and lowered half of it into his mouth.<p>

He turned to question Bill again, as his mouth was not full of burger.

"Bill, tell us about what was gong on in your reality?"

"Why don't you go first," he asked, not wanting to be laughed at again.

"Fine with me. I'm a writer. I write mystery novels and I am currently doing field work with the NYPD getting ideas  
>for a new book series I'm working on. I live in an apartment in New York City with my mother and seventeen year<br>old daughter and…"

"You live with your Mother?" Bill snickered.

"No, that's not what I said, my mother is an actress and after she fell on hard times I let her move in with me, plus  
>she helps me look after my daughter…sort of."<p>

"So, in other words," Bill snickered again. "You live with your mother."

Ha, ha, now you've had your laugh at me…can we move on please?"

"No, I have some questions." Mal piped up. "What's the NYPD?"

"It's the New York Police Department."

"Great…more lawmen." Mal shook his head. "So what planet is this city on?"

"What do you mean what planet?" Rick asked.

"You must live on one of the core planets, dressed as you are."

"I don't know what you mean by core planet, but I do believe I speak for both Bill and myself when I say we're  
>from earth."<p>

Bill shook his head in agreement.

Mal couldn't have been more socked at his reply.

"That's impossible, Alliance lost contact with Earth-That-Was over a hundred years ago. 34 Tauri is the only Verse  
>there is now. How can you be from earth?"<p>

"That's what I'm trying to explain by different realities. You must be from a possible reality, there's no space travel  
>where we're from, unless you count a handful of aging shuttles and a rudimentary space station orbiting the planet."<p>

"What make you think it's about realities and not time travel?" Bill put forth.

"Well, I was just about to clear that up. It all has to do with us looking alike. We can't all be the same person but  
>from different times in the same reality, it just doesn't work. The best explanation for all three of us to existing at<br>the same time is alternate reality."

Bill looked a little confused.

"In my reality it's the year 2011, and since you're younger than me what year is it where you're from?" Rick asked.

"It's 2006."

"OK, so in 2006, I was never a Sheriff in the Wheelsy Police Department. I think I'd remember that, and second,  
>how come I never heard mention of this alien attack you talked about. It sounded pretty bad. It's hard to believe<br>the government could cover that up?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised what governments can cover up." Mal interjected.

"You have something to add?" Rick questioned his comment.

"Sure do, but not till I've had another beer first," he raised his hand and looked over to the bar. "Where'd he go?"

The others turned to look. The bar was empty.

"You don't think…" Rick started to say and Bill interrupted.

"Nah…he couldn't be."

"I'm not going to look, are you?"

"No way!"

"What are you two going on about?" Mal asked.

Bill and Rick both looked at each other and smiled.

"You know, he's probably in the back…stocking the shelves." Rick replied to Mal's query, and Bill snorted a small laugh.  
>"Why don't you go back there and find him, we could all use some more beers."<p>

Mal stared at the smirking pair a moment before getting up.

"You're gonna have to tell me what's so funny when I get back," he commented before he walked off towards the kitchen.

It was minutes before they heard anything.

"Ai ya, hwai leh!" Mal hollered from the back, seconds later he burst through the swinging doors.

"Ai ya, wo mun wan leh!" He yelled at them, not knowing they didn't speak Mandarin. He soon noticed though,  
>that the pair was laughing at him.<p>

"What do you think is so gorramn funny?" He glared at them.

"The look on your face," Bill chuckled.

Mal headed over to the table and proceeded to yank Bill up out of his seat by his collar.

"Your face won't look so funny when I put my fist through it again!" He reared his arm back to follow through on  
>his threat, only to have Rick grab his arm to stop him.<p>

"You wanna' go first?" Mal asked menacingly.

Rick saw a darkness cloud Mal's eyes and he quickly let go, stammering apologies for both of them.

"We weren't sure what you were going to find back there, but we found him in there earlier and neither of us  
>wanted to go look again."<p>

"So you sent me instead."

"Yeah, sorry?" Rick smiled halfheartedly, hoping to ease the man's hold on Bill.

Mal let go but gave Bill a frustrated push back down into his chair.

"You two do something like that again and I won't promise to be so forgiving the next time."

"Point taken," Rick said. "Let me get those beers and then we'll all just sit back and relax a moment."

He headed behind the bar glancing through the window into the kitchen as he passed by. He dug three more  
>beers out of the cooler and quickly returned to the table passing out the beers as he sat. He had thought<br>about making his second beer his last, but the way things were going it would probably be better if he faced  
>this drunk off his ass. He quickly downed half his new bottle and let out a loud unapologetic burp afterwards.<br>Bill quickly followed suit. After Bill had finished his burp, Mal grabbed his bottle and proceeded to down the  
>whole thing and set his bottle down hard onto the table. He glared at the men until he felt he had made<br>them sufficiently uncomfortable before he let the small smile creep up the left side of his face.

When he saw the two visibly relax it was his turn to let out a laugh.

"So, what's the story on the frozen bartender?" He asked.

"We don't really know any more than you do. He's not frozen, then he's frozen, then he's not frozen and now  
>it seems he's frozen again. He scared the shit out of us when he came back to life after we'd found him frozen<br>the first time, so don't be surprised when or if he does it again." Bill explained.

"Well that was surely helpful." Mal replied shaking his head at Bills' "explanation".

"We can't get much out of the guy," Rick added. "He very creepy and enigmatic, you're more than welcome  
>to try and see what you can get out of him if he returns."<p>

"I'll do that." Mal replied. "Until then, I need another beer. I'm not near drunk enough to deal with this." He  
>stood and headed back to the bar.<p>

"Cao!" He blurted out as he stumbled back into his chair.

Rick and Bill casually looked over to the bar to find the bartender standing there looking at them.

"How'd you like that?" Bill asked. "Now's the time to go talk to him."

Mal smirked at Bill's comments before he stood back up and headed over to the barman.

"Can I get you another beer?" The barman asked as he approached.

"Yeah, sure," he said and the watched the manas he headed to the cooler. "I was wondering  
>if you could answer a question or two."<p>

"Yes, I can," the man replied.

"Why are you here?" Mal asked.

"I'm here to serve the patrons," he replied.

"Where are we?"

"You're in the bar."

"I know that, what town is this bar in, what planet are we on?"

"Don't know."

"How can you not know?"

"I work in the bar."

Mal turned and looked at Rick. "Enigmatic is right!" He called out to him.

He thought for a moment before he asked his next question.

"If I wanted to leave, could you let me out?"

"I could if that's what you wanted."

"That's what I want." Mal replied.

"I was waiting for someone to ask me, I'll be right back and then you can leave." The bartender turned and  
>headed into the kitchen.<p>

Mal returned to the table and sat down with a smug look on his face.

"Well that was easy; all you had to do was ask. He said he'd let us out."

"You're kidding me?" Rick leaned back into his chair dumbfounded.

"No, I'm not."

"That was too easy."

"I agree." Bill commented.

"Don't know what else to tell you, he said he'd be right back and then I could leave."

Bill looked over at the swinging doors.

"You don't suppose he's…?"

"Frozen?" Rick finished his question. "Who knows, let's just give him a few minutes, see what happens."

It was less than a few minutes when the bartender returned. He was carrying a medium sized intricately  
>carved rectangular wooden box in his hands. He approached the table and set the box down in front of<br>the men and then he reached up and pulled a silver chain from around his neck and lifted it over his head.  
>They could all see the ornate key that dangled from the chain. The bartender took the key and inserted it<br>into the matching lock on the front of the box. He lifted the lid to reveal three identical vicious looking  
>combat knives that lay inside. All three men leaned away from the table as the bartender reached inside<br>and pulled out a knife. He then set it down in front of Mal and removed the other two and placed them in  
>front of Bill and Rick.<p>

"What in the sphincter of hell is this?" Mal confronted the bartender. "You said I could leave, what do I  
>need a knife for?"<p>

"It's the only way you can leave."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It's the reason you are all here. Only one of you can be allowed to live, the others must die. Whoever  
>lives gets to leave."<p>

They all spoke at once.

"No way!" Bill yelled.

"You're crazy!" Mal retorted

"I'm not killing anyone!" Rick shook his head and held up his hands.

"Only one can leave." The bartender repeated.

"This is like some surreal version of Highlander, I'm dreaming…that's what's going on here, I'm dreaming".  
>Rick babbled to no one in particular, still shaking his head.<p>

Mal picked up the knife in front of him and took a menacing stance in front of the bartender.

"If anyone is going to die here, it' going to be you!" He growled.

"Oh, I can't be killed." The bartender casually replied.

"Yeah, we'll see about that." Mal replied.

Bill and Rick were both shocked when Mal thrust the knife up to its hilt into the man's belly. The bartender  
>just stood there. He never even flinched when the knife penetrated him. Mal was so startled that he let go<br>of the knife and left it sticking out of him.

The bartender reached up and slowly pulled the knife out and placed it back down on the table. It blade was  
>as clean as when it came out of the box, there was not a trace of blood to be seen either on the blade or<br>on the bartender.

"I can't be killed." He repeated as he gathered up the empty box.

"I'll give you some time and when I come back, we'll get started." He smiled at thembefore leaving.

"What if we refuse to fight?" Rick asked

"Oh, you won't refuse, no one ever does." The bartender then turned and walked back into the  
>kitchen leaving the three alone with their thoughts.<p>

It was while before any one of them spoke; they all just sat looking at the knives that lay on the table before them.

"Well what kind of a piece of fuckin shit luck is this!' Bill cried. The upset look on his face said what they were  
>all thinking. "I didn't survive being stabbed by a giant alien tentacle and pumped full of alien goo just to be<br>knifed in some shit hole of a bar for no damn good reason!" He pounded his frustration onto the table with his fist.

"Oh, there's a good reason." Came the bartenders reply.

He had stealthily returned and was standing before them holding a Tommy gun.

"Jesus Fuckin' Christ!" Bill exclaimed as he leapt from his seat and backed away from the bartender.

Rick had also backed away, knocking his chair over in the process. Only Mal remained seated at the table.

"And what is this good reason?" he asked

"You have too many personas…only one can live, the rest must die."

"And who gets to decide that?" Mal asked.

"I don't make the rules," the bartender replied. "I only enforce them. So, gentlemen, I think it's time we  
>began. If you'll take your seats and pick up your knives."<p>

"I refuse." Rick said.

The bartender lowered the Tommy gun and pointed it at Rick.

"You do it or I do it, that's your choice. Either way, only one of you gets to leave."

Bill and Rick reluctantly returned and sat down at the table. Bill fingered the knife in front of him and Mal  
>noticed that both men were looking at him. He knew what they were thinking. He could see it in their eyes.<br>He was the younger, stronger and the harder of the two and he knew he could easily take them. He knew  
>what had to be done.<p>

"There's a lot of fine ways to die, I ain't waitin' for anyone to choose mine." He said as he picked up his  
>knife from the table. He could see the fear in the eyes of Bill and Rick as they reluctantly picked theirs up.<p>

"And so it starts," said the bartender as he pulled a pocket watch from his vest pocket and glanced at it.

"You have five minutes."


	4. The Man

_**The Man**_

"Five minutes."

A distant voice echoed inside his head, before he felt a hand on his shoulder and his body  
>being shaken.<p>

"You have five minutes."

Opening his eyes, he looked up into an unknown face hovering above his own.

"What?" He asked as he looked around the room feeling displaced and confused.

"I said you have five minutes." The unknown man repeated, then abruptly turned and left  
>the room.<p>

_Shit! _He knew he shouldn't have sat down on the couch. It was a bad idea and he knew it.  
>He'd told himself to get up the moment he sank down into its soft and inviting cushions but<br>his body had overruled his brain. Working sixteen hours straight and then taking a red eye  
>across country left little time to catch any sleep. He was definitely going to have to talk to<br>his new agent about scheduling conflicts. In all fairness to the man, it was last minute, he  
>was only suppose to be out here to tape an interview for a late night talk show later in the<br>day when the network called and asked him to fill in after a guest cancelled on one of their  
>morning shows. It had been the right choice, even though it left his sleep deprived.<p>

Reluctantly pulling himself up from the comfort of the couch, he staggered across the room  
>to the small bathroom in the corner. He was going to splash water onto his face to wake<br>himself up when he remembered that he'd been through make up already. _Damn!_

He wandered back out into the room and headed over to the small mini fridge. He opened  
>the door and looked inside for a soda, hoping its fizzy coolness would bring him back to his<br>senses. He grabbed a Dr. Pepper from the shelf, opened it and took a big swig. Yep, that  
>was better, and the ensuing belch even helped a bit.<p>

Now that he was sufficiently awake, he took a moment to ponder the strangeness of the  
>dream he'd just had<em>. Why those two characters,<em> he wondered, a_nd why the bar and the  
><em>_creepy bartender?_ He'd probably need a therapist to understand all the underlying meanings  
>going on in that dream. Better not spend too much time thinking about it…he needed to<br>think about the prep questions he'd been reviewing on the plane ride. He needed to be  
>focused for the interview ahead. He did a few stretches and vocal exercises to get the blood<br>flowing so he wouldn't look or sound like he was half asleep. He was pacing around the  
>room when the man, he remembered him now from the production staff, popped his head<br>into the room.

"They're ready for you now, just follow me."

He followed the man down a long corridor to the stage door entrance. The assistant led him  
>through the door to wait off camera till they needed him on set. He was nervous, this was live<br>TV and he was always afraid of fucking up.

The camera lights suddenly went off and there were people scurrying around the set. He felt  
>the assistant's hand on his arm.<p>

"You're on," the man said, as he led him to the chair opposite the host's. They shook hands  
>as he sat. He'd met the man for the first time an hour earlier and they'd hit it off over coffee<br>and donuts, so he knew he was in good hands as he settled into his chair.

"Thirty seconds!" someone yelled.

The camera lights were soon on and he half listened while the host made his introductions, they  
>always embarrassed him, so he tuned them out till he heard his name.<p>

"….Nathan Fillion of the hit TV show Castle, good morning Nathan."

"Good morning Matt,"

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimer: I do not own Nathan Fillion (Damn!) or his likeness (though I have captured him in my wallpaper), and I do apologize for speaking on his behalf.<strong>


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